


Game On! (aka Deflowering Doctor Jackass)

by Crysania



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Snowed In, Virgin Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: When Rey is stranded at her bookshop in the middle of an upstate NY snowstorm with a local professor she knows only as "Doctor Jackass", she decides the best way to pass the time is to play a game. And that, of course, leads to other activities.





	Game On! (aka Deflowering Doctor Jackass)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintHeretical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintHeretical/gifts).



She hates him. She always has. He comes into her bookshop, usually late at night and spends more time reading than he does actually buying anything. A professor, her employee Rose tells her. Some big muckety-muck Doctor something-or-other from the local university. She doesn’t know what he teaches exactly and the books that he leaves strewn about on the tables give her little clue. He could be a history professor, or maybe archaeology. Though there was that time he spent at least an hour muttering over the art books on offer.

She’s always liked the art books.

He didn’t. And so that day he’d slammed out without so much as a by your leave, with Rose calling _Have a nice day_ at his retreating back.

A total ass, that one.

Rey tries to pretend she doesn’t notice that he happens to have a _nice_ ass. It’s not like she’s attracted to the big lug, even if he does have pretty eyes and gorgeous dark hair and the way he fills out those shirts…

“You’re staring again,” Rose whispers to her and Rey comes to, giving her friend and employee a sheepish look. “Why don’t you just jump him?”

“He’s an asshole,” Rey responds with, maybe a little too quickly.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Tall, dark and cranky. Some people like it.”

“Not me.”

“Really?”

Rey shrugs. “I can enjoy the view, can’t I?”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Rose mutters and turns to dust the shelves. Their little bookshop is situated on one corner of Main St in the small town they live in. It’s not an impressive place, not all sleek and modern. It looks lived in, with furniture Rey salvaged from garage sales and Craigslist ads for free furniture. She’s done pretty well by it, even if her accountant tends to have an embolism every time he looks at their books.

And then there’s Doctor Jackass. He’s there now, tucked away in an alcove. His too long legs spread out in front of him as he sits gingerly on one of her somewhat lumpy couches. That one had been given away on Freecycle by some family. _We let the dogs sit on it in the basement_. It’s still a bit covered in dog hair despite all the vacuuming Rey had done.

She doesn’t tell Doctor Jackass. She’ll let him walk away with dog hair on his pristine black pants. The idea amuses her.

Rey glances out the window of her shop and sighs. It’s the weekend before Christmas so why _wouldn’t_ it start to snow? Upstate New York is known for its snow and the Weather Channel has been warning about that stuff they call _lake effect_ up here, snow that comes off the large Great Lakes and drowns the place with inches, sometimes _feet_ of the stuff. “Rose, why don’t you head home?”

Rose is about to protest, but Rey nods toward the windows, where both the wind and the snow has picked up.

“Are you sure?”

“I know you had plans with your sister.”

“I do, yeah, but…”

“Then get you gone, girl.” Rey swats at her with the book she’s holding and Rose giggles at her terrible attempt at a New York accent.

“Alright. Just be safe.”

“When have I not been?” Rey says with a smirk.

“Well, there was that time…”

“No! Stop! Just go. I can always crash here if the snow gets too bad.” She knows that her little car, an ancient Fiat that she’s sure is kept together with paperclips and duct tape, won’t make it far if the snow gets too heavy. But it wouldn’t be the first time she’d just crashed at her shop.

“What about…” Rose nods in the general direction of where Doctor Jackass is lurking.

“Don’t _worry_ ,” Rey says and pushes Rose toward the door.

“Ok, but you call me if you need anything,”

“I’ll be _fine_.” And then Rose _finally_ throws on her coat and disappears out the door. It closes behind her with a thud and Rey glances down at her watch. 10:15. Maybe she can get _him_ to leave a little early and she can follow suit. No one is going to come out in bad weather anyway, so closing up the shop a half hour early wouldn’t hurt her business at all.

She heads back to find Doctor Jackass muttering over another book, pencil being held by tightly clenched teeth, hair askew. _Oh goodie, he’s in a bad mood_. Not that he has _good_ moods. Just bad and less bad she supposes.

“We close at 11:00,” she says, jumping right into it.

He doesn’t so much as glance up at her. “I’m aware of that.”

“It’s starting to snow,” she offers up. Maybe he’ll want to leave too, once he realizes that the weather is worsening.

He does look up at her then. “We _do_ live in central New York. And it’s December.”

She lets out a little huff of annoyance. “It’s the weekend before Christmas. Don’t you have anyone to go home to?”

He says nothing for a moment. Then finally – “No.” And he looks back down at the book he’s reading.

She stalks off with another noise of annoyance. He doesn’t respond to her clear irritation and so she doesn’t bother to remind him that they close in only 45…no, 43, minutes.

* * *

She spends those 43 minutes alternately staring out the window of her shop, watching as both wind and snow pick up, and glancing back at where Doctor Jackass is still muttering and occasionally tossing something hard on the table. She lives only about a five minute drive from her shop, but she’s pretty sure she won’t make it home. Not in this weather. She pulls out her phone and checks the weather report. Winter storm warning, 12 to 18 inches expected. _Perfect_.

Another night at the store. Finn will worry. He always does when she doesn’t come home, even if that means he and his boyfriend, Poe, get the place to themselves for the night. Oh, she has _no doubt_ Poe is already over there. The two of them are nigh on inseparable and she’s frankly been waiting for Finn to break the bad news that he’s moving out. Soon, she’s sure.

 

[Rey: Hey, not going to make it home tonight.]

[Finn: r u ok]

[Rey: Have you seen outside?]

[Finn: Shit]

[Rey: Doctor Jackass won’t leave. So I’m kinda stuck here. Not gonna brave the roads.]

[Finn: good plan. u got food?]

[Rey: I’ll make do. Tell Poe I say hi!]

[Finn: of course! be safe peanut! well come dig u out]

[Rey: Thanks]

 

She glances at the clock again. 18 minutes to go. She’s looking forward to her tea and the biscuits she has hidden in one of the cupboards in the back. There might even be a little leftover whiskey from the last time she’d been stuck there for the night. Then it hadn’t been a snow storm. It had been an all-night cleaning spree that had left her exhausted and instead of risking the drive home in such a state, she’d curled up on the one lumpy couch for the night. It hadn’t exactly been comfortable, but it had been peaceful at least.

Six minutes left to go. Was it too soon to tell Doctor Jackass to get lost? She could still hear him muttering in the stacks somewhere, could still hear his occasional angry outburst.

And yet she feels somehow sad for him. All alone, no one to go home to. It shouldn’t surprise her. She can’t imagine he’s easy to get along with on a personal level. And yet still, it makes her sad. No one should be alone.

Four minutes. She walks to where Doctor Jackass is and stands over him. It takes him a moment to notice her and when he does, he looks up at her and snaps, “What?”

“We’re closing in a few minutes.”

He tosses the book he was holding onto the coffee table that she’d salvaged from a neighbor when they’d tossed it out. The dull thud makes her wince. “A little more gently, please?”

He grunts.

“You’re not very talkative are you?” He just gives her a look and stands. She forgets, sometimes, just how tall he is until he’s standing right next to her. Rey is not short. She’s a bit taller than average for a woman, but he absolutely dwarfs her. She wonders, sometimes, what his students think of him. She imagines he must be utterly terrifying in class.

He says nothing else as he walks past her. He doesn’t buy anything. Of course he doesn’t. It’s not that Rey expects everyone to. Her place is half library, half bookstore. People come often just to peruse the books, sit in the comfortable chairs, and spend some time among them reading in peace.

When Doctor Jackass steps to the door, he curses. The snow is really coming down now and she can barely see across the street. She’s definitely not going out into the mess. “Well,” she says brightly, “Safe travels home!”

She slams the door on him and listens as he curses again and pulls the hood of his jacket up over his head before stalking off. He looks like an apparition out there, like the grim reaper tearing down the snowy streets. All she can see of his retreating form is the long black coat. And then he’s swallowed up in the storm.

 _Well, good riddance_.

She breathes a sigh of relief as she turns the key in the door.

 

[Rey: Doctor Jackass is gone.]

[Finn: haha good. u stayin?]

[Rey: Yeah. Putting the kettle on now. Good thing I have all these books to keep me company!]

[Finn: rite if u need anythin!!!!]

 

She puts her phone down and heads to the small kitchenette she has in the back to make some tea. She’s so thankful the place came with such an addition. There’s a small dorm-sized fridge, a tiny stove, a little pantry space. It’s not much, but it’s enough on these terrible nights when she gets stuck alone in the place. She wouldn’t say she has it well stocked, but there are some essentials. Soup, some mac and cheese, tea, coffee. Nothing overly fancy, but things that can get her through to the next morning at least.

She’s just set the kettle on and gone back up front to decide what book she wants to curl up with, when she hears the pounding at the door. She lets out a little squeak and holds her hand up to her heart. _Just who_ …

But she knows.

It has to be.

She rushes to the door and there he is, standing on the other side, looking _pissed_.

She’s not an unkind person. She never has been, and though part of her wants to just leave him standing out in the storm, she _can’t._ So she opens the door. He pushes by her without so much as a by your leave. “They closed the roads,” he mutters, lowering his hood and shaking out some of the snow from his hair.

“Oh,” she says stupidly.

“You’re the only one open.”

“I’m not open,” she shoots back with. He turns to her and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re the only one here who I _know_ is still in their shop. You’re not going anywhere either,” he points out.

“I hadn’t planned on it.” She’d say something else to the jerk, but the kettle starts to whistle at that moment. She breathes a sigh of relief. Saved by the bell, as it were

“You’re making tea?”

“I _am_ British, you know,” she points out as she turns to head back to the kitchenette.

He follows. Of course he does.

“I had planned on curling up with a nice book and having a peaceful, _quiet_ evening.”

He snorts. “Well, don’t let me stop you.” But he does. He stands in the doorway, leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

She sighs. “Did you want some?”

“I prefer coffee.” She’s surprised to see him wince as the wince as soon as the words come out. So there’s at least _some_ part of him that recognizes he’s been an asshole.

“I have instant.” She almost laughs at the way his face screws up at the thought. _Good, I wasn’t going to make it anyway_. She squelches the mean thought before she can voice it.

He says nothing else, standing and watching as she pours water into her tiny teapot and puts a splash of milk in the cup. When she turns to leave with teapot and cup in hand, he doesn’t move from his spot.

“You’re blocking my way,” she points out.

“Aren’t you going to offer me any?”

She can’t help but roll her eyes. “You prefer coffee.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t drink tea.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m a guest,” he says and there’s a sort of smugness behind the words.

“A _guest_? You’re trapped here because you refused to go home before the weather got bad. You’re not a guest. You’re an _interloper_. And I’m _stuck_ with you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and she’s thankful he’s no longer smirking. “Fair enough,” he finally says. “Still…”

“Fine.” She grabs a second cup, a sad little thing with a chip out of the rim. And then at the last second rummages through one of the cupboards, digging in the back. It’s in there somewhere. _Where is it?_ Ah yes, _there_ it is.

“Whisky?” His eyebrows rise.

“I’m going to need something stronger than tea,” she mutters. He moves out of her way and she’s able to step past him this time. As she trudges back to her formerly quiet little space, she can feel the big annoying bastard right behind her.

A night with Doctor Jackass. If she survives this, she’ll at least have a story to tell.

* * *

She’s made her third pot of tea. Doctor Jackass drinks like a fish. She’s starting to feel a bit mellow after multiple cups of tea with increasing amounts of whisky in them. Even Doctor Jackass seems to have relaxed a bit. Ok, she admits she _might_ have made his tea a little bit, ok a _lot_ , stronger than hers. Half tea, half whisky. So far he hasn’t said a word, just drank it down and requested more.

He almost looks _content_ , sitting there half curled into one of the chairs that never seemed as small as they seem now. They’re chairs for _normal_ people, not giants.

As she hands him yet another cup of tea and offers one of the biscuits she swiped from cupboard, she finally asks the question she probably _should_ have asked much earlier in the evening. “What’s your name?’

One of his eyebrows shoots up. “I’m surprised you asked.”

“I’m Rey,” she says.

“Rey Smith, I know,” he shoots back. And then – “Kylo Ren.”

“Kylo? That’s your name.”

He shrugs.

“What the hell kind of name is Kylo? Is that short for something?”

“It’s my name and it’s not short for anything.”

“What _were_ your parents thinking? God, no wonder you’re so screwed up.” The last is muttered to herself, but still loud enough so that he could hear it.

“You _do_ know I heard that?”

“Of course I do,” she shoots back with and then shrugs. “I just figure I should probably know the name of the guy I’m getting shit-faced with.”

“You’re shit-faced?” He sounds incredulous.

“Maybe?” She laughs at that. “Ok maybe not. Let’s call it ‘pleasantly buzzed.’”

“You get chatty when you’re pleasantly buzzed,” he notes.

She doesn’t respond for a moment. She’s surprised to see his eyes intent on her and that he seems honestly curious rather than annoyed. “I suppose,” she says at last. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head and settles back in with his tea. She turns back to her reading, but the words are swimming and she can’t quite get them to settle. Pleasantly buzzed and reading apparently don’t mix.

“I can’t read,” she says and dramatically puts the book down. He’s not reading either. Actually, he’s watching her and the look on his face is a complete mystery. His eyes are a little wider than they were before, his generous mouth set in a grim line.

And then he smirks again. “Well, I’m sure there are classes for that.”

She picks up the book and tosses at him.

“Hey!” he shouts, leaning forward to point one long finger at her. “Shouldn’t you be gentler with that?”

“Hmph.”

“You were the one who…”

“I know,” she cuts him off with. “It doesn’t matter.” Then she brightens. “Let’s play a game.”

“You have games around here?” He glances around the room and while she does have a couple games around (there’s a deck of Uno cards that she’s pretty sure is missing at least one Draw 4 card and she thinks she has some Yahtzee cards and dice tucked away in one of the junk drawers), that’s not the sort of game she has in mind.

“Not exactly.” She’s the one who smirks this time, reaching over to the bottle of whisky and pouring some into her cup, then his.

“Straight alcohol?”

“Seems a good time for it,” she shrugs and then leans forward. “I have the perfect idea.” She jumps up and rushes off to one to one of the stacks, returning and tossing a book in front of him.

 _If…(Questions for the Game of Life)_. It’s a thin book with a huge list of questions that get you thinking about life, yours, other people’s, the world around you. She played it once, a long time ago, with a group of friends in college. It had been alternately hilarious and far too revealing. She still couldn’t look at Finn without thinking _WTMI_.

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t a game. It’s more like ’20 questions’ in book form.”

She shrugs. “It’s a party game.”

“It’s…”

“Scared?” she says with a small laugh. “I mean, if you’re too scared to, then I guess we can play Yahtzee or something.”

“You don’t scare me,” he says with a sneer.

“So good then. Game on?” She holds up her mug of whisky.

He starts to say something and then seems to think better of it. “Fine. Game on,” he finally says, clinking their mugs together.

“I’ll start.” She grabs the book and flips open to a page, scanning some of the questions. “Ok, I’ll start easy on you. If you could physically transport yourself to any place in the world at this moment, where would you go?”

“Home,” he answers quickly.

“Oh come on.”

“No, seriously. Home. My own bed, my own coffee, and a good book that’s not a bunch of silly questions.”

“You’re boring.”

“I’ve been told that before.” He holds out his hand and she hands him the book. Their hands brush as it transfers from one to the other, and she lets out a small gasp at the contact.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her for a moment, before flipping through the book. “Fuck, these are ridiculous.” He keeps flipping. “Ok, here’s one. If you could kill the pet of anybody you know, whose pet would it be?”

“That’s horrible!” Rey exclaims. “I couldn’t kill anyone’s pet.”

“You have to answer the question,” he points out.

“No seriously. How could I?” She feels sick at the thought. It’s not like she likes every pet she’s met. There’s the yappy dog that lives upstairs from her who keeps her up a lot of times during the night. And there’s the cat that keeps trying to get into her place and takes a swipe at her every time she shoos it away. “Someone who has a pet tarantula?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Fine. Ok…” She takes a deep breath. “There’s this lady who lets her cats out all the time. They’re awful, starving things. I’ve seen more than one get hit by a car. And she just shrugs her shoulders and says ‘if they don’t learn, they don’t live.’ She’s _horrible_. So hers, I guess. It would be a mercy killing. A kind euthanasia rather than being hit by a car and dying a horrible death.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you turned that into something _good_. Are you always this…ray of sunshine?” And he actually _laughs_ at his pun.

“Dear God, he thinks he’s funny. Just…hand me the damned book.”

“As your highness commands,” he says and hands it over with a great flourish of his wrist.

“You’re not so bad when you’re not being a jackass.”

“I am _always_ a jackass,” he points out.

She shakes her head and skips through the book, looking for something more interesting, more revealing, _something_. “Got it!” she says with a grin. “If you could destroy a single tape or CD that your mate plays, what would it be?”

He says nothing for a moment. “I don’t have a mate.”

 _Single…well, then_. “Ok well, if you could destroy one by a past mate…”

“I don’t have any of those either.”

She blinks. “You’ve…never had a girlfriend?”

“No.” There’s just a hint of color to his cheeks.

“Boyfriend?”

“No,” he says quickly, adding, “I’m not gay.”

“Oh. Ok then. So none?”

“Can we move on?”

“But how is that possible?” He’s gorgeous. Ok, he might be a complete jackass, but some women like that, don’t they? There’s always that _Girls never want nice guys_ thing. Doctor Jackass… _Kylo_ …well, he’d be the perfect bad boy wouldn’t he? Smart, sarcastic, tall, with hair that belongs in a shampoo commercial and lips to die for.

He shrugs and leans forward to snag the book out of her hands.

“Hey, you never answered a question. I get another one.”

“That’s not in the rules.”

“Fine,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning forward. “Go ahead then _Kylo_. Do your worst.”

He makes a big deal of flipping through the book, smirking at some, obviously dismissing others. “Ok… If you were to have a one-night stand with a current world leader, who would you choose?”

She snickers at that. “That was an unexpected choice.”

“Just answer it.”

“Justin Trudeau.”

“No hesitation there,” he responds with.

“Have you seen him?” she says with a shrug.

“He’s not that good looking.” Kylo mutters and Rey just laughs.

“He’s pretty handsome. Sorry. And compared to the rest of them? I mean, maybe if Obama were still a world leader, it would be a tougher decision. But when you compare him to the rest?”

“Ok. I’ll give you that.”

“See, I know what I’m talking about.”

He shakes his head and takes another sip of his whisky. He hasn’t been drinking it much. She hasn’t either, truth to be told. A few sips here and there. She hasn’t moved beyond pleasantly buzzed. But she feels relaxed in a way she didn’t expect with Doctor Jackass (Kylo, she reminds herself, even if it’s a strange name).

“My turn.” She holds out her hand and he hands the book off to her. She’s very careful to not let their hands touch this time. That spark did nothing for her state of mind, really. “Oh! This is a good one! If you could have avoided living one year from your past, which year would you like to have eliminated?”

“2011,” he answers quickly.

“Why?”

“Now, now.” He waggles a finger in front of her face and his smirk says everything it needs to, really. “The question didn’t ask _why_.”

“Dammit,” she mutters. “That’s unfair.”

“You should have picked a better question. You really suck at this game, don’t you?”

“So I’ve been told,” she mutters and he laughs. Actually _laughs_. And it’s this beautiful, rich sound. It’s so completely unexpected that she feels it down to her toes.

“Ok here’s one. If you had to describe your idea of the perfect mate, how would you do it?”

“Carefully,” she says quickly, and then giggles.

“You know that’s not what it meant.”

“Fine,” she says with a slight pout. “Smart,” she starts with. “Bookish. He’d have to appreciate books. Handsome, but, you know, not Hollywood handsome. Half my friends would probably tell me they don’t get it. But I’d think he’s beautiful. Dark hair, piercing eyes.”

“That…” He clears his throat. “That, uh…seems rather specific.”

“So it does.” It describes him, she realizes. She didn’t _mean_ to describe him. But except for his assholish tendencies, he fits that _perfect mate_ ideal to a tee. Does he realize it? Is that why there’s a red tint to those high cheekbones of his? She clears her throat. “So…my turn? I think?”

“It is,” he responds with and she’s surprised to hear his voice sounding a little hoarser than before.

“Oh good,” she mumbles, flipping through the book. She can’t help but feel that this was a bad idea. A very bad no good, what the hell were you thinking sort of idea. The kind of one that, quite frankly, she does not usually come up with.

She blames it on the storm. And the whisky. Well, mostly the whisky. “Here’s a fun one!” she finally says and is amused to see him grimace. “Oh come on. This is good. Really juicy.” She leans forward at that one and smirks. “If you could have changed one thing about your first sexual experience, what would it be?”

His entire face turns _red_. It starts at the highest point on his cheeks and spreads like a fever down to his neck. When he reaches up to run a hand through all that amazing thick hair, she sees that his rather large ears are equally as red.

“That bad?” She can commiserate, really. Not that she’s had a lot of experience or anything, but her first time was an unmitigated disaster. Painful and awkward and he didn’t even _try_ to get her off. It was like every bad cliché you hear about first times rolled up into one. “Mine was too,” she says as she leans toward him.

“I…” He runs his hands through his hair again as he falls silent.

“Oh come _on_. The whole point of this game is to reveal embarrassing secrets.” Still he says nothing, won’t even meet her eyes. “It can’t be that bad…can it? God, it wasn’t like with your sister or anything…”

“I don’t have a sister,” he says quickly.

“Brother? Cousin?”

“No,” he says emphatically.

“No you don’t have them or no it wasn’t them?” she asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“No I don’t have them.”

“Me neither,” she offers up. “Oh come on. Here, I’ll answer the question and then it’s your turn. My first time? It was with this big oaf and I really just wanted to get it over with. It was awful. So my big regret, the thing I would change? Him. I would have waited until I found someone I really _wanted_. It didn’t have to be love,” she says quickly. She’s always been pragmatic. Growing up bounced from foster home to foster home tends to make one that way. “But just someone who I at least _liked_ and who cared about my pleasure.”

He glances up at her. “I…uh…I’m sorry it was so terrible,” he murmurs.

“Well, it’s over with and done now.” He nods, but says nothing more. “And so now your turn.”

He runs his hands through his hair again. Once, twice, then tugs on the ends. When he holds out his empty cup and nods at the whisky bottle, she knows it’s bad.

Like… _bad_ bad.

She pours him the whisky and he downs it in one gulp. “I…fuck. Why is this so hard?’

“Just do it. Like you’re ripping off a bandaid.”

“I haven’t,” he says, the words coming out in one rush. _Ihavent_.

“You…haven’t…” He nods. “Oh God, you still have your V-card?”

“What are you, 12?” he shoots back. She’s pretty sure his face is even _more_ red than it had been before, but she’s not sure if that’s the whisky he’s downing or what he’d just revealed.

“Wow,” Rey finally says. She can’t quite figure it out. “How?”

“I just…haven’t?”

“But…” And here she wonders, does she tell him how gorgeous he is? That sometimes she daydreams about his bending her over her counter and taking her? “I mean. You’re hot. How does someone who looks like you get to your age without losing his virginity?”

“Well, this is such a fun conversation to have tonight. Can we return to ‘What is the one item you take if you were running from zombies’ or whatever other random questions might be in that book of yours?”

“Or,” she says, pausing to take another sip of her whisky-laden tea. “We could do it.”

He blinks. “What?”

“It’s a _brilliant_ idea. You need to lose your virginity and here we are, trapped in a bookstore in the middle of a storm. It’s like the beginning of its own rom-com.”

“You’re drunk,” he accuses as she leans a little closer to him, putting her hand on his thigh. On his very _muscular_ thigh. _Dear God_ , she’s just a little wet thinking about wrapping her legs around this giant tree of a man. Ok so he’s a complete asshole, but what does that matter when you’re fucking someone anyway? He’s been far more companionable in the last half hour than the first guy she slept with was the entire miserable month they dated.

“I’m not. I promise. I’m really not. I feel a little relaxed, but that’s it. I’m completely in control of my mind.”

“Then why?”

“Why not?” she says with a shrug. _Because I want to fuck you, you asshole_. She supposes that’s not good enough reason, really.

“I…” he starts to say. “It’s just…” His face is still bright red and he runs one of his massive hands through all that thick gorgeous hair. “No one…”

“Oh God, you have no idea,” she whispers. None. He has no idea the effect he has on women. He can’t see it. How can he not see it? Tall and broad with lips that are meant for kissing. And oral sex if she’s totally honest with herself. The thought of those lips of his between her legs has her positively _dripping_ in anticipation, even if she knows now that he’ll have no idea what he’s doing.

“No idea about…”

“You?” she answers, the word tumbling out of her mouth. “I mean, look at you.”

“I do,” he says and there’s a small furrow between his brows. “Every morning in the mirror.”

She rolls her eyes. “ _That_ is not what I mean.”

“Then…”

“I mean, you’re every girl’s wet dream.”

“Girl’s don’t have wet dreams,” he mutters.

She gapes at him. “Are you…oh God, you’re serious, aren’t you?” She shakes her head. How can someone like him be so utterly _clueless_? “Do you know nothing about women at all?”

“Um…” His eyes refuse to settle on her, like he can’t bear to look at her, even in the dim light of the bookstore at night. “Not really?”

“Do you want to?” It’s not that she’s had a lot of experience. Some, certainly. But she’s sure she can at least help, direct him. And if she gets an orgasm out of it? Well, it’s not such a bad way to spend a night trapped in her store. Certainly better than her being alone with nothing more than a good book and a mug of hot cocoa.

Well, _maybe_ better.

She supposes it depends on if he’ll take direction or not.

But he says nothing, just stares at his hands and Rey feels _terrible_ about making the suggestion. Hell, she feels pretty bad about even letting it get this far. He was just Doctor Jackass, who spent too much time in her shop and tended to scare off some of the newer patrons.

“You know what, nevermind. Why don’t you go find a…”

“Yes,” he says, the quiet word falling heavily into the room.

“Yes to?”

“All of it. Look, I just…I’m not easy to get along with, you know.”

“No kidding,” she says and almost wishes she could take it back because he seems a little distraught.

But then he lets out a soft huff of laughter. “I suppose I deserved that,” he mutters. “I don’t _get_ people. Like I said, I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Wow.”

She sits back. What _does_ one say to that?

For a short time they’re both silent. “Were…” he starts to say.

“We don’t…” she starts to say at the same time.

They both stop and there’s a moment of awkward laughter there that almost passes them by. Almost, but not quite.

“I want to,” he says and he won’t meet her eyes. “Do you _really_ want to? Are you sure?”

She says nothing more for a moment. And then she looks up at him and smirks, a little glint in her eye. “Sure. I’ve never deflowered a virgin before.”

He groans. “Could we not focus on that so much?”

“I think it’s kind of going to have to be the focus.”

“Maybe so.” He runs his fingers through his hair and _God_ when he does that it does _things_ to her. She’s always had a thing for thick, dark hair and nice hands. A man’s hands tell a lot about him. And Kylo’s look strong and sure.

She glances around the small room. It’s not the most comfortable of places. But there’s the couch that they can make use of. She stands, holding out her hand. He just stares at it and she rolls her eyes. “If you can’t touch me, how exactly are we going to have sex?”

She watches his Adam’s apple bob. “Right. Ok then.” He reaches up to grasp her hand and she smiles at him, drawing him to his feet.

“Good, come sit over here.” She directs him to the couch and pushes lightly on his shoulders. He falls a little heavier into onto it then she expected and she cringes, hearing the thing creak beneath his weight.

“God sorry,” he mutters.

“Don’t apologize. But if we break it, you bought it.”

“Half of it,” he points out and she laughs. She’s at least a little relieved to see him laugh a bit before he chokes it down. “It’s ok to laugh,” she points out. “Sex shouldn’t be serious.”

“I always thought it was,” he admits.

“I mean, it means something. Usually...”

“Does this?” he asks and she’s surprised at how strangely earnest he sounds.

She doesn’t know how to answer that. She doesn’t know him, not well at least. But there’s this aura of quiet intensity that he’s giving off and so she bites her lip and cocks her head to the side. “Maybe a little,” she admits.

He nods but says nothing more.

She’s not sure how to start this really. The few times she’s done such a thing with someone, it had either come about from a date or two they’d been on. Or it had been a crazy spur of the moment thing that had, admittedly, ended in disaster. She’d never been _deliberate_ about it. She finally takes a deep breath and comes over to straddle him, knees on either side of his hips.

“Is this ok?” she asks.

His eyes are wide but he finally manages to nod. The hands that were sitting on either side of him come up to grasp her thighs, touching her for a moment before falling back to the couch and gripping the blanket that she’d thrown there before to hide some of the worn patches.

“You can touch me. That’s allowed.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. He doesn’t move though and so she reaches down to take both of his hands and move them back to her legs. “I…” he starts to say, but then clamps his mouth shut.

She just smiles down at him and lets her hands wander away from his, finally coming to tangle in those thick dark locks of his. Really, that’s where her hands have been _itching_ to be. Probably ever since he first set foot in her little bookshop. It’s even softer than she expected and _she_ is the one to groan this time. “God, how is this hair even _legal_?”

He laughs at that and gives her a quizzical look.

“What do you _use_?”

“Conditioner?”

She just shakes her head. “Like I said, _illegal_.” Her hair has always been a little limp, far too fine. She’s tried every volumizing trick she can find on the internet with little luck. Most of the time, she just tosses it back in a ponytail and lets it go at that. There’s just no hope for it.

“Could we stop talking about my hair?” he mutters.

“For now,” she says with a grin. “But we’re coming back to that topic later.” She tugs on his hair and he just stares up at her. His dark eyes are wide, unblinking. His lips are parted slightly. “Kylo?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He doesn’t respond to that, his lips just part in an _oh_.

“I’ve never been kissed before,” he chokes out and she’s not sure what to say to that. This man, this tall, gorgeous man who is clearly very intelligent, has never been kissed. It’s _insane_ , really. Absolutely bonkers.

So she does the only thing she can think of doing. She leans down and touches her lips to his. Just a chaste brushing of her lips across those amazingly soft and plus lips. And dear _God_ he’s made for this. She’s sure of it.

“Wow,” he murmurs as she pulls away. His eyes are still closed and so she leans forward and kisses him again.

And then again.

His mouth opens beneath hers and she takes almost immediate advantage. It feels weird to her, swiping her tongue across his lips, touching his tongue with hers. She’s not usually the dominant one, always allowing the few men she’s been with to take the lead.

But not here.

Not with this one.

She has to take the lead and does so willingly. And she finds that she likes it. She likes the way his hips thrust up at her when she nibbles at his lower lip, she likes the low growl in the back of his throat as she fists her hands in his hair and swirls her tongue around his.

And God, it feels amazing when his tongue moves against hers, when he angles his head _just so_ and the kiss deepens and this time it’s _her_ that is moaning into his mouth.

When she breaks away and his eyes finally open, she can’t help but smile. “You’re a fast learner.” Her voice is a breathy thing in that moment.

He can’t speak, shakes his head, finally gets the words out. “I always have been.” And then he’s wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back down for another searing kiss. It’s almost _obscene_ the way those plush lips of his fit against her own.

“Fuck,” she mutters as she reaches down for the edge of his shirt. “Is this ok?” she asks and when he nods, she pulls the shirt over his head. His undershirt goes with it a moment later and then his chest is bare, beautifully and wonderfully bare to her eyes.

And he’s… _built_. All hard planes and muscle beneath pale skin. Smooth, like he’s some damned marble sculpture. “Do you wax?”

His eyes fly open and he stares at her. “What?”

“I mean, _God_.” She wants to lick him. _Everywhere_.

“I don’t wax,” he says on a gasp as she leans over to touch her lips to his neck, trace down his shoulder. She pulls back a bit and makes good on her wishes, pressing kisses and bites and down his pecs, tracing his abs with her tongue. He lets out small gasps and the occasional _fuck_ and some words she really cannot make out.

It all makes her smile.

Who knew Doctor Jackass could be so _into_ it?

When she reaches out to cup him through his pants, he lets out a hiss, and pushes her back. “No…” he starts to say.

“I’m sorry.” She backs off immediately. She didn’t mean to push him so fast.

He shakes his head and he’s _panting_. “Too much,” he manages to get out. “It’s just… _fuck_.” She has to choke back her giggle. “I want to see you. _Please.”_ One of his hands pulls at the bottom of her shirt. “God, _please_. I need to.”

She reaches down and pulls her shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere across the room. She doesn’t care where. Why would she? Not when he’s staring up at her like she’s some sort of goddess.

“You’re…” he starts to say, shakes his head. “Can I?”

“You can touch me,” she says quickly and breathes a sigh of relief when his hands come up to cup her breasts through the lace of her bra. She’s never been more thrilled in her life that she actually has one of her pretty bras on and not the ratty things she often drags out of her dresser.  

“You’re beautiful. _Fuck_. I want to taste them.” His cheeks go bright red at the words and she runs one of her hands through his hair.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I can’t help it. You’re…” He shakes his head and a furrow forms between his brows. “You’re…God, _fuck_. This is why I’m still a fucking virgin. I don’t have any fucking clue how to talk to women. I’m such a mess.” The last is muttered with a grimace.

“You’re doing fine.” She leans down to kiss him and this one is slow and sweet, none of the urgency from before. “Just relax a bit. You’re so wound up.” She attempts a light massage of his shoulders and is relieved to see him nod. “Look, this might be a bit forward, but what the hell? Do you want me to, you know, take the edge off a bit?”

“The edge…” he starts to ask when she puts her hand on his crotch again. “I…uh…you don’t…”

“Oh but I _want_.” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, but instead reaches down and undoes the button on his pants. The zipper is down a moment later and then she’s reaching to the waistband, glancing up at him.

He looks wrecked, pants hanging open, shirtless, hair askew and his lips parted as he stares at her. And then he raises his hips and lets her draw both pants and underwear down. He kicks off his shoes as she does so and she pulls him completely free of the garment.

And then it’s _her_ turn to stare. “Holy fuck.” He’s been _hiding_ something. A rather _large_ something. Rey is not the most experienced girl on the face of the planet, and she’s never spent much time thinking about the size of the male anatomy before. Well, except for laughing over the _big cock_ section on Pornhub and thinking they were completely ridiculous. Or fake in some way.

But Kylo’s is not fake.

And it’s fucking massive. Almost as big around as her wrist, long and heavy as it sits against his abdomen, flushed an angry color of red. Quite the contrast against the paleness of his body.

“What?” he says and starts to bring his hands up, trying to cover himself up.

“Pretty sure if you advertised _this_ , you’d have no shortage of women throwing themselves at it…I mean you…throwing themselves at _you_. _Fuck_.”

“You…” His ears are bright red too at this. Maybe she was a bit too forward. She’d never been one who was able to control her mouth as she liked. Sometimes things just came out. And well, what else could she do? She’d never seen one that big, didn’t even think they existed outside those stupid porno flicks her friends made her watch on occasion. “You like it? It’s ok? I just…” He tries to cover himself up again with one of his equally massive hands.

In answer, she pushes his hands away and gets up off the couch, coming to sit in front of him on the floor. She grasps his cock in one of her hands and he hisses and curses as she runs her hand over the smooth length of it. She does love cocks. She always has. Something about the smooth, almost velvety skin covering all that hard length.

And his is really quite beautiful. And substantial. So in answer to the question he can’t quite get out, she leans forward and licks it from base to tip. He lets out another guttural moan and she’s pretty sure she hears the words _You’re going to kill me_ somewhere in the midst of a bunch of curse words.

They fade away as she opens her mouth and takes the tip into her hot mouth, sucking lightly at it, using her tongue to swipe around it. He’s left with nothing more than moans and sharp intakes of breath and the occasional almost incoherent curse word.

She likes it that way.

It takes almost no time before he’s gripping her hair and she can feel him tense up. He tries to pull her head away. She can feel the desperate pulling at her hair and his attempts at words. But she won’t let him, instead tightening her lips around the head of his cock and stroking the parts she can’t take into her mouth with a firm grip. When her hand slips down to cup his balls, he lets out a hoarse shout and then he’s coming and she takes it all in, looking up at him and swallowing when he’s done.

“Fuck,” is all he manages to say.

“And that’s just the first course,” she offers up with a cheeky grin, crawling back up onto his lap to kiss him. She knows he can taste himself on her tongue, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Instead, he kisses her, deeper and deeper each time, and when she feels his teeth scrape against her bottom lip, _she_ is the one who moans.

He traces kisses down the side of her jaw, soft and a little experimental, “My earlobe,” she whispers and he does as she asks, taking it into his mouth, scraping teeth and tongue across it. She shudders above him, holding onto his shoulders as he moves away from her ear and down her neck. “Are you really sure you haven’t done this before?”

He chuckles and she can see the tips of his great big ears turn a little red. “Unfortunately,” he mutters.

“Well, no time like the present to learn.” She gets off his lap and sits down on the couch next to him. “My turn,” she says, glancing over at him.

“Your…turn?”

The smile she gives him can only be described as lascivious. She says nothing more, instead unhooking her bra and tossing it across the room, to land somewhere. She doesn’t even care as she leans back on the sofa and she’d _laugh_ at the look he gives her if he wasn’t so completely enamored of what he was seeing.

“Damn,” he mutters.  “So I can…”

“Touch me,” she whispers. “ _Please_.”

She watches as he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment before learning toward her, and it’s almost sweet how he reaches out a trembling hand to lightly graze one of her nipples. It’s already hard, but it tightens even more under his tentative touch.

“A little firmer,” she whispers. “Don’t be afraid.”

He nods and cups her breast in one of his massive hands. It completely engulfs her and she starts to apologize for the size of them. She’s always hated them. They’re small, barely enough to fill an A cup. She supposes one might call them “perky” if one wanted to be completely annoying (ok, one ex-boyfriend did and she learned to hate that word on the spot). And she still can’t quite forget the time she stuffed her bra and the stuffing fell out one fateful day when she was a teenager. There’s no hiding now behind push-up bras or padding.

“They’re perfect,” he murmurs and his mouth draws close to them. She can feel his hot breath fan out over her chest and the way he cups them, runs his thumb across her rapidly hardening nipples, the way he looks at her so reverently makes her have a new appreciation for them.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for but then he leans forward and tentatively takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking it in and then laving it with his tongue. “Oh fuck, yes.”

“This is good?”

“Yes.” He returns to his ministrations and she gives him the occasional instruction. _More tongue…use your teeth…but lightly!_ He obeys every one, learning what she likes as her breath hitches when he hits just the right spot. He’s attentive, she’ll give him that. For someone who has always been such a jackass, he sure does know how to _listen_ to a woman.

 _She likes it_.

“Hands,” she finally gasps.

“What?”

She doesn’t answer, but undoes the button on her pants, pulling the zipper down and then taking his hand and pushing it down beneath her underwear, pressing one of his fingers up against the moisture that’s pooling there. He stops as soon as he feels it and she takes one of his fingers and drags it across her, letting the calloused pad of his finger come to rest on her clit.

“You’re…”

“Wet? Of course I am. Did you think none of this would get me going?”

He shrugs and watches her, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t sure. I don’t know…”

“I know. You’re doing fine.”

“Just fine?”

She’s grateful that he’s smiling now and lightly swats at his shoulder. “More than fine.”

“Good, That’s…good.” He moves his finger then, sliding it around through the slickness of her folds, tracing patterns there as he touches simply everything. When he hits her clit again, she lets out a soft moan. His looks back up at her. “There?”

“ _Yes_.”

He smiles then and runs his finger over and around her clit and _fuck_ she is so close. So close that she stops him. She doesn’t want to come. Not yet, not like this.

“Did I do something wrong?”

She shakes her head, a tremor wracking her body. “Tell me something, Kylo. Have you ever thought about going down on a woman?”

He stares at her and she can see his Adam’s apple moving, even though no sound is coming out of his mouth. “I…well…that is to say…yes?”

“You’re not sure?” The words are said with a soft smile.

“Yes,” he says more firmly this time. “I’ve thought about it.”

“Good.” And she can’t believe she’s doing this, but she is. She stands, and pulls her pants and underwear down, kicking them off. She’s completely naked in front of him now and she almost _thrills_ to the way he watches her. His eyes are wide, his lips parted, as he takes her in.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I mean…you’re beautiful.”

He doesn’t move then, doesn’t say anything else, just _looks_. And she can’t help but feel self-conscious there. It’s dim in the room, sure, but he’s studying her like she’s some sort of rare jewel he just dug up and doesn’t quite know what to make of.

“You can…” she starts to say.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says at the same time. He lets out a nervous laugh after the words come out.

“I know,” she says with a soft smile. Doctor Jackass is not such a jackass when he’s kneeling between her legs, naked and confused. She supposes that’s the great equalizer here. He might be highly intelligent and lord his skills over unsuspecting students. But here, in the realm of pleasure and sex, _she_ is queen.

Queen despite her own abysmal lack of much experience. She supposes _a few times_ beats _none_ at least. She didn’t dare tell him but she’s had exactly one guy go down on her _one_ time and it was an abysmal failure. All he did was complain, which was not exactly conducive to orgasms. She’d ended up giving him a blow job and letting him fuck her from behind, so she didn’t have to look at his irritating face. He later told her he _hated_ going down on women. Needless to say, the relationship didn’t last long.

So it was really taking a risk to even _go there_ , especially with a virgin. And especially with someone about twenty seconds ago she was pretty sure she hated. She’s not so sure now.

“Kylo…” she starts to say.

“Ben.”

“What?”

He looks somewhat embarrassed, his already pink-tinted cheeks turning redder. “My name.” She’s about to say something when he continues on, flustered. “My _real_ name.”

“Ben Ren?” she blurts out and _God_ , this conversation is getting ridiculous.

His brow furrows for a moment before he must have realized her confusion. “Ben Solo,” he corrects. And flinches.

Rey leans forward. “Ben _Solo_?” _Holy fuck._ “Son of Han Solo? The race car driver. _That_ Ben Solo?” He nods and pushes back from her slightly. “The one who…” And her eyes widen at the thought.

“Tabloids,” he mutters. It’s not like the whole damned world didn’t know who he was. She just went down on Ben fucking _Solo_. His name had been all over the papers after his father’s death. _Brakes meddled with. Son last one to work on car._ He had disappeared shortly thereafter and the tabloids had had a heyday with _that_ too.

“Professional name.” He seems almost embarrassed by it, his eyes focusing anywhere but on her.

“You chose Kylo Ren as your professional name? Seriously?” Apparently his disappearing act had involved some sort of PhD and a college a couple thousand away from where he grew up. She remembers him in the paper. He had been a gawky teenager, too tall, with ears that stuck out through a terrible bowl cut and a long nose on a narrow face.

Put him in better clothes, with a better haircut, and probably 60 pounds of muscle and voila! You have Doctor Jackass.

“People don’t forget it,” he says with a shrug.

She lets out a snort. “I suppose not. It’s rather distinct.”

“It is,” he starts to say and when she pulls back a little, she sees him flinch again, just slightly. His face is really too expressive for its own good.  “Look if you don’t want to…”

She takes a deep breath. She doesn’t know why this changes anything. They were rumors, really, nothing more. He’s still the same Doctor Jackass he’s always been and he’s _still_ staring at her half-spread cunt like he wants to devour her. That’s a good sign at least.

“No,” she says quickly, reaching out to tug at his hair, pull him closer. “I want to.”

She can see the way his shoulders relax at that. But they’re tense again when he moves in on her. “If I do anything wrong…”

“I’ll tell you,” she whispers. And then he’s brushing a finger across her sex, lightly running it through the moisture that’s pooling there. She wants to tell him to just get on with it already, but he looks so enthralled as he drags the tip of his finger around her that she just lets him.

And then he leans closer.

She can feel his breath ghost out across her and _Goddammit_ if she doesn’t nearly come from that alone. He gives a tentative lick straight up her slit and she throws her head back. It’s not perfect, far from it, but it’s soft and wet and _fuck_ she forgot how good this can feel.

He gives another experimental lick and she tugs at his hair, pulling his head a little higher. He glances up at her and she brings a finger down to circle her clit for a second. He nods and she’s thrilled he’s so _eager_. And so damned attentive. He immediately moves to there and brings his tongue to her clit.

And _that_ is fucking amazing. This is definitely not something she’s ever felt before. He gives a few more licks, some soft, some a little harder, testing, seeing what she likes. He moves his tongue in a swirling motion around it and that certainly has all her attention. When he nibbles a little at it, her hips buck and she lets out a panting moan. “Too much… _fuck_.”

She looks down at him and he’s looking up at her and there’s this glint of amusement and devilry in those eyes and it’s the fucking hottest thing she’s ever seen. He returns to his previous ministrations and finally gets his lips involved, licking and suckling at her clit.

There’s only one thing missing and so she reaches down to find one of his hands that’s currently holding her hips and directs it back to her center.

And he knows.

Just like that.

He inserts one finger and explores her inner walls. Then a second and she can feel a lovely delicious stretch as he fucks her with those two long, thick fingers and sucks at her clit with those luscious lips of his.

And then he sucks _hard_ , presses his tongue against her and inserts a third finger and that’s it…she’s gone. She grabs at his hair _hard_ and pulls him tight against her as she rides out an orgasm she didn’t even know was possible.

When she finally comes down from it and releases him, he pushes back only slightly to look up at her. His face is coated in her juices and it would be _obscene_ if he didn’t have such a big stupid grin on his face.

“What?” she asks and her voice is hoarse.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs. He wipes his mouth on his arm and then pushes up to kiss her. And she doesn’t even care that she can taste herself on him. His tongue tangles with hers almost immediately and the kiss is as wet and sloppy as she feels down below.

“I have a confession to make,” she whispers against his neck as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to sit in his lap.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

He blinks. “That? Oral sex?”

“Well, someone did once. But it was terrible,” she admits. “I’ve never come on someone’s face before.” _Fuck_ , she should be embarrassed that she’s even telling him this, that she’s even _talking_ of such things. But he looks so fucking proud of it that she can’t regret it.

She twists in his lap so she’s straddling him and reaches down between them. He’s hot and hard already, no evidence that he’d come before. She supposes there _are_ advantages to overeager virgins. “It seems you liked it too.”

“Oh I _did_.” His eyebrows raise and lower a couple times and she smirks at him.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks as she strokes him a few times.

“Does it feel like I have second thoughts?”

She lets out a small huff of laughter. “No. But I don’t ever want you to regret this.”

“You mean you don’t want me to have a good answer to that question?” he says with a smirk.

She has no idea what he’s talking about for a moment and then she remembers. _That_ question. The one that started it all. “You better not have one after all my hard work!”

And they laugh.

She’s still hovering above him, one small movement away from sinking down onto him, but she leans forward, her head on his shoulder and _laughs_. And it feels good to just let go, to be able to enjoy the moment despite how meaningful it can be.

“Fuck,” he suddenly says, explosive. Not like the near worshipful use of it before.

She shifts slightly away from him. “Ben?”

“I don’t have condoms. Why would I have condoms? It’s not like I’ve ever needed them before. _Fuck_.”

She puts hands on either side of his face and makes him _stop_. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. We don’t need them.” She worries for a moment that this is just an excuse. That maybe despite everything they’ve just done, he’s not _ready_.

But then he relaxes and his hands come up to her waist, fingers making lazy circles where they wrap around to her back. “Wow,” he finally says. “Really?”

“Yes, _really_.”

“Ok.”

“You’re sure?”

In answer, he reaches down to his cock and lines it up with her. She can feel it there, just pressing lightly against her folds. “I’m sure,” he says. And she lowers herself onto him. Slowly. He’s _big_ , certainly far wider than the other men she’d been with, few and far between that they were. She’s well-prepared after all the foreplay, but the stretch is a little much at first.

There’s also the joy of watching the way his eyes widen as he sinks into her warmth. His mouth is half open, his eyes glazed over. “Fuck,” he whispers as she finally lowers herself all the way, taking in every last inch.

She almost echoes it, instead just holding still and enjoying the absolutely delicious stretch of him inside her.

“You feel amazing.” His voice sounds awed and she leans forward to kiss him, soft and slow, as she lifts herself up and presses back down.

He groans deep in his throat, hands going to her hips to guide her as she starts to ride him. And fuck she _loves_ this position. He goes so deep and she controls all the movement and he’s left to just hold onto her, his head thrown back.

“I can’t…” he starts to say.

“Don’t then. Don’t hold on.”

He sits up a little, his eyes on hers and there’s an intensity there as he’s watching her. She moves a little faster and he lets out a curse. “But you…”

“I already did.” She’s having a hard time focusing on the conversation and so instead leans forward, her eyes meeting his. She wants to assure him, tell him it’s ok, to let go, but she can’t get the damned words out. Instead she kisses him, quick and sloppy, and it’s just enough to set him off.

With a groan, he grabs her hips and pulls her tight against him and she can feel him pulsing, can feel his release deep inside her. She wraps her arms around him as he lets out a string of curses and then falls back against the ratty old sofa, his breathing erratic.

She pushes herself up, hands on his shoulders, to watch him as he comes down from this. His first orgasm _with_ someone. His head his thrown back and his hair sweat-slicked against the sides of his face. His ears stick out through his damp hair and they’re all kinds of adorable. Though something tells her the often stern and put together professor wouldn’t want her to bring them up.

He doesn’t look put together right now. He looks absolutely _wrecked_. When he opens his eyes to meet hers, he looks…well, she’s not sure how to describe it.

And she doesn’t have time to anyway as he wraps his arms around her and peppers her face with kisses, finally giving her another deep, soul-melting kiss. “That was…”

“At a loss for words?” she asks, pushing his hair back from his face and cupping his chin. “I never thought I’d see Doctor Jackass at a loss for words.”

He grins. “Is that what you call me?”

“We didn’t know your name,” she says with a shrug. “So we had to call you something. You certainly came in here enough.”

“It’s an escape,” he mutters.

“From your everyday life?”

He nods.

“I think I need to move.” She doesn’t want to. She wants to stay there on his lap forever, but he’s softening in her and she feels sticky and her legs are starting to ache. He nods and she pulls herself up, letting him fall out of her.

She feels empty when he’s gone.

“I’ll…” she starts to say. “Um…just stay there. I’ll go find a towel or something.”

He nods and leans his head back, eyes closing.

She cleans herself up quickly in the bathroom and returns to him. He’s half asleep when she gets back with some paper towels and she smiles at the sight. “Let me,” he starts to say but she won’t let him, instead kneeling at his side to clean the remains of their tryst off of him. He watches her and when she’s done, his hand comes to her head, just a soft gesture of thanks, running through the disaster that her hair has become and cupping her chin.

She nods and gets up to toss the paper towels in the trash. He’s watching her when she comes back, still with that look of awe on his face, and she feels herself blush. “Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s not…”

“You’re perfect.” There’s a strange fervency to his voice. “Absolutely perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He reaches up to trace a nipple with one finger and she shivers.

“We should…” She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say. It’s late. They should probably sleep.

He glances around the room. “Get dressed, right?”

“In case anyone comes looking for me. Or we oversleep.”

“Right.”

She gathers up the mess that’s her clothes, donning them quickly. The bra she tosses aside at least. No one would fault her for taking _that_ off for the night.

He goes in search of his own clothes and she enjoys the view while he looks for his pants. Muscular legs and a really nice ass, which she _has_ noticed before of course. But now without anything covering it, it’s especially nice. He clearly spends time at the gym or pursuing sports of some sort. He’s _strong_ and for a moment the vision of his lifting her, pinning her to the wall, while she wraps her legs around him and he takes her comes into her head.

 _Yes_.

She likes that.

They haven’t broached the subject of if there’s a next time, but she realizes she’d _like_ one. Doctor Jackass wasn’t so bad when you got to know him.

“You’re staring,” he says and there’s a strange sullen bent to the words.

“Sorry,” she says, feeling a bit sheepish, and turns away.

“Nothing to apologize for.” He steps closer to her and he looks like wants to…well, she’s not sure. Hug her? Kiss her? Ravage her against the couch again? He’s not _old_ or anything, but she’s pretty sure there’s still a refractory period for men in their 30s. “I’ll take the floor,” he says instead.

“I can’t make you take the floor,” she says quickly. Sleeping arrangements. She hasn’t thought of those. There’s just one lumpy couch with two ratty pillows to be had for sleeping. It’s not like anyone else has ever spent the night there with her. And why would they? It seems the snow storm has changed a lot of things.

“I can’t fit on that couch,” he points out. And he’s right. Of course he is. _She_ barely fits on it. There’s no way he could get his gigantic frame to curl up on that thing.

“Ok, you win. I’m sorry I don’t have much.” Two throw blankets at least. She likes to keep it comfortable for people who spend time there. She passes him one and realizes it won’t even cover him. But it’s something.

She settles down on the couch and watches him shift around a bit on the floor right next to it, trying to find some comfortable position to sleep in. He finally settles on his back, head on the small pillow and blanket covering most of his lower half.

She turns out the one light and lays on her side, curled up tightly to keep as much of the throw wrapped around her as possible.

Everything settles into silence.

She can hear him breathing, not quite even enough to be asleep, can hear him shift once or twice more. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

She reaches out a hand and is surprised that his meets hers halfway. “I’m glad you got stuck with me here tonight.”

He says nothing for a moment and she fears she’s said too much, bared too much of her emotions over what was supposed to just be a stupid tryst, some way to pass the time while they were trapped in her bookstore. “Me too,” he finally says.

She falls asleep with her hand still in his.

* * *

He’s gone in the morning when she wakes up. It’s like he was never there. His clothes are gone, the pillow and blanket folded neatly on one of the nearby chairs. She blinks as she looks around the room.

Was he ever there?

Was it just a dream?

No, she can feel the bit of soreness between her legs and the ache in her thighs that tell her it really wasn’t a dream. She’d slept with Doctor Jackass. _Ben Solo_ , she reminds herself. Ben Solo who the tabloids had said killed his father, even though he said it was all just a terrible accident. Still, he’d disappeared from the public eye after that and most people thought he was guilty.

_And you slept him with him._

_Even knowing that…_

But he’s gone now, left her, she realizes, as soon as the storm had let up. She can still see the tracks in the snow, spaced far apart like she would expect from someone with such long legs. And she’s not sure what to think of that. _It was just a tryst_. She has to keep reminding herself of that. Things had just…happened.

With a sad shake of her head, she takes to righting the place. The couch looks a little bit disheveled but with a quick run of her hand over the aging fabric, it’s set to rights. She folds the blanket and sets the pillows back at each edge of the couch.

When she goes looking for the book they’d been using, she can’t find it anywhere. She knows she was just a tiny bit tipsy the night before, but she would have remembered reshelving it. It’s not there. It’s not on the floor. She can’t honestly remember _where_ they might have tossed it to when they decided to go ahead and have sex.

 _With a fucking virgin_.

It was probably a huge mistake. And not in the way she thought it would be. She expected him to be clingy, half in love with her just because he let him stick his cock in her for the first time. But instead he’d upped and left her, like she was some inconsequential one-night stand.

 _Fuck_.

It shouldn’t bother her.

But it does.

It’s not that she was half in love with him. _Hardly_. But still, she really isn’t quite sure _what_ to make of it.

With a sigh, she heads to the back to make herself at least a little presentable. Rose will arrive soon if the roads are passable. And she suspects they are since Ben was long gone. She only has time for a quick scrub of her face before she hears the door open and Rose’s voice calling her name. She straightens her hair as best she can and rushes out.

“Rose!” She cringes a little at the overly bright sound of her voice.

Rose rushes at her “Oh God, you’re ok!”

“Of course I am.” She cocks her head slightly to the side as Rose stares at her.

“Finn texted me to tell me you were stuck here all night and I should go over first thing to check on you.”

“I was fine,” Rey says quickly. “Look, can you open the store? I just want to go wash up. I’m wearing the same clothes I was wearing yesterday and I’m sure I smell _gross_.” She at least had a change of underwear and an old t-shirt in the back. It’s not much but it’s something. She can do a more thorough scrub-down in the employee bathroom and then assist Rose for as long as she needs her.

Rose nods and Rey rushes off. She’s sure her face must be bright red, but so far Rose doesn’t seem to have noticed.

She’s stripped down to nothing and scrubbing her underarms with the one washcloth she has stored away in the bathroom when there’s a knock at the door. She lets out a soft curse. “I’ll be right out!”

“Rey?” comes Rose’s voice.

With another curse, Rey rushes over to the door and cracks it open. “ _What_?”

“What exactly happened last night?” Rose’s voice is both curious and bewildered at the same time.

Rey stares at her. “Can’t this wait?”

“I don’t think so,” Rose mutters.

“Look, I just need to get dressed, ok?” God, what is _wrong_ with Rose anyway? There’s a strange look about her eyes that Rey can’t quite define. Partially squinted shut, her lips drawn up in a confused grimace.

“Fine, but…” Rose glances over her shoulder and Rey tries to see beyond her. There’s nothing there. Just the short hallway and the usual stacks of books. “You’re going to want to get up here ASAP.”

“ _Fine_.” She shuts the door then, maybe a little harder than she intends. The rest of her scrub down takes a few minutes and then she towels off and throws her clothes back on. She’s still a rumpled mess but, and here she leans down to sniff at her armpits, at least she doesn’t smell like body odor. Or sex. The latter is a bit more worrying than the former.

When she rushes out of the bathroom and to the front of the store, what she sees there stops her dead in her tracks.

“Care to explain?” Rose asks with her arms crossed over her chest.

Kylo is standing there. No…not Kylo… _Ben_. He’s definitely Ben. Because he’s standing there holding a bunch of ridiculous looking flowers. It’s a strange mish-mash of half-wilted flowers that don’t look quite right together. He holds out the bouquet toward her and clears his throat. “I…uh…that is…I didn’t know what you might like.”

“So you got them all?”

His cheeks redden a bit. “Something like that,” he admits with a sheepish grin.

“What…” she starts to say, but then he holds out something else.

The book.

He sets it down on the counter and flips through it, pushing it at her when it’s open to _that_ page. She can see the question right there below his finger. _If you could have changed one thing about your first sexual experience, what would it be?_

“I have an answer.”

She looks up at him as he steps a little closer. And then he leans in toward her, his mouth near her ear. For a moment he says nothing and Rey makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.

His voice is a whisper, breath ghosting across the side of her face. “That I couldn’t hold on long enough for you to come again.” She shivers at the tone of his voice. “I want to feel you.”

“Fuck,” she whispers.

He straightens back up and she’s not sure if she’s relieved at the small distance between them now, or if she wants to just yank him back into her and kiss that smirk off his face. But then he sighs. “I have to go to a meeting. But…” He clears his throat again and she watches as he swallows hard. “Maybe you’d like to go out to dinner with me?”

“Tonight?” The word tumbles out of her mouth before she can take it back.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. Meet me here?”

“Absolutely.” And then he surprises her, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, before rushing back out the door.

Rey is left holding the flowers, her hand still resting lightly on the book he’d returned to her. And then she blinks hard and glances over at Rose.

Rose is staring at her, mouth slightly open, arms crossed over her chest. “Just what exactly happened here last night?”

Rey looks out the door for a moment where Ben has just disappeared around the corner. “Oh God, Rose, you have _no_ idea.” She smirks. Maybe he _is_ half in love with her after all.

She’s not sure she really minds that.

“Come on Rose. Let me get you some tea and I’ll tell you _everything_.” Rose claps her hands together with glee and follows her into the back. This explanation is going to take some time and Rey is half relishing seeing the look on Rose’s face when she finds out just what she’d been up to the night before.

**Author's Note:**

> I really really hope you enjoy this! I had tons of fun writing this one!
> 
> The book in question is an absolute 100% real book and I've played that "game" before (and ended up getting WTMI from a very dear friend of mine, hence the little bit about Finn in there!). The questions all come straight from the book.


End file.
